by Alma Boykin
Mammals and Amends
or
Bad Politician, No, No!
A Cat Among Dragons Short Story
By Alma TC Boykin
Mammals and Amends
or
Bad Politician, No, No!
A Cat Among Dragons Short Story
By Alma TC Boykin
© 2013 All Rights Reserved
Cover Art: Dreamstime.com
Story Inspired by S.A.H., August 20, 2013.
Dedicated to the Huns and Hoydens.
Mammals and Amends
or
Bad Politician, No, No!
“Boss, is this going to be one of those deliveries?”
Zabet waved her left forefoot in what might have been an Azdhagi negation, if the Azdhag in question had been drunk out of his skull. <
Rada stifled a sigh of relief. “Good to know.” She made certain that the psychosymbiote steering the Dark Hart still had things under control, then glanced at the date on one of Zabet’s computer displays. “We’re going to that awkward period, aren’t we.”
The True-dragon nodded and Rada rumpled her tail in a shrug. Even the best of species and cultures went through strange phases, and this period, if Rada’s memories proved correct, had not been one of the Terran Empire’s shining moments. “Would wearing my House signet help?”
Zabet’s whiskers floated up and down and she rocked a little on her hind legs as she studied the monitor. <
“Spoilsport,” the Wanderer muttered under her breath. An alert appeared in her mind and she closed her eyes, returning to a tight link with the symbiote controlling the Dark Hart. The creature showed her a developing gravitational wave, tossed out by a supernova some distance away. The two creatures calculated the distortion effects and decided to shift course a fraction of a parsec. “Hold on, Boss, it’s going to get a little bouncy.” Rada settled deeper into the pilot’s chair and secured the straps, tipping the seat back into a half-reclining position. Zabet logged out of the computer and wrapped her length around the base of the symbiote’s life-support tank, digging her talons into the special security pads Rada had added for her. Rada and the symbiote shifted all available energy to the navigation and life-support systems and braced.
The wave shoved the timeship hard before lifting the tiny speck of a vessel and carrying it along with the burst of energy. Rada watched, seeing the motion in all six dimensions, feeling the surge of power as the symbiote opened the energy intakes as full as it could without overloading. The swirling, churning wave carried them in the general direction of their destination faster the Dark Hart could do alone. Pilot and symbiote braced, feeling, tasting the energies and the distortions in the timestreams around them. Two Rowfow ships and another Trader vessel appeared in Rada’s mind, well away from the ‘Hart, and she ignored them. Without words she and the ‘Hart agreed on a plan. The little scout ship rode the wave beyond the desired point, sucking up every bit of temporal energy it could.
At the last possible moment they pulled in the stored energy and changed course, wrenching the timeship out of the wave and “dropping” back along the timethread that they wanted, following it “upstream” to the original destination. Rada half-sensed the physical vessel jolting and bouncing, but ignored the sensations. She and the creature watched, waiting, waiting, “Now!” and they broke into four-dimensional space-time at the spaceport on the planet called Trokoka.
Rada released the safety straps but stayed flat, letting her mind return to her body. She felt as buzzy as if she’d downed two mugs of first-press keritang on an empty stomach. Obviously the batteries, back-up batteries, surplus energy containment system, and my brain are all full. Something splashed near her head. What? She struggled into a sitting position and stared as the orange symbiote launched out of the creamy-white, translucent fluid of its life-support tank, turned a flip in the air and splashed back into the fluid. “Well damn.”
Zabet eased away from the tank, rose onto her haunches, and watched as the creature repeated the performance before disappearing into the depths of the liquid. <
Rada shook her head, still staring at the tank. “Heck if I know, Boss. I’ve never seen it do anything like that before. But it’s happy, I think. At least, it’s not unhappy.” The creature’s emotions and mind operated so differently from Rada’s own that she hesitated to guess what it thought or felt, most of the time.
<
The Dark Hart sat in solitary splendor on the landing pad. Several hundred meters away, Rada caught a glimpse of a few standard ships, along with the looming bulk of a diplomatic vessel from the First Terran Empire. No, it’s still just called the Terran Empire, she reminded herself. They haven’t imploded yet, although they are close. And Zabet will explode if I don’t get to work. Rada hooked her cane onto her belt, opened the cargo pod, and wrestled the awkward parcels out, almost falling into the compartment as she stretched for the last box. “Come here you ungrateful,” she growled, giving up and using her cane to catch part of the thing and drag it close enough to lift.
“Hey!” someone called. “The ramp controllers already told you, this area is off limits to passengers.” Rada turned around to see a grey and violet True-dragon bearing down on her. She twitched her ears and waved her tail. The ramp warden slowed her charge, her tail stiff, ears back, whiskers dropping as she blinked orange eyes. “Oh, sorry. Thought you were one of those humans.” The reptile stopped, adjusting her teleconverter as she did.
“Nah, I work for my meals,” Rada drawled in Trader. “Special procedures in effect today? I got part of the arrival briefing but we had a rough trip and I was a little distracted for the last few minutes.” She tapped the side of her head, hinting.
The True-dragon switched off the teleconverter. <
Rada set the box down, pulled a hardcopy of the manifest out of a folder attached to one of the other parcels and then handed the pages to the ramp warden. The official skimmed through the list, counted the packages sitting on the ground beside the timeship, and pulled out her electronic pad, making a note and entering the appropriate data. Rada dug her credit ring out of the bag on her belt and presented it as soon as the True-dragon looked up again.
<
<
Rada hooked her cane onto her b
elt and began loading the cargo. A series of ear wags and tail-tip flips told her that the two reptiles were chatting about something, and Rada wondered if Zabet had also heard about the security protocols in place. Rada finished her task, locked the cargo pod shut, told the ‘Hart to close the entry, and leaned against the cargo cart, picking her teeth with one extended claw.
The True-dragons finished their business and the ramp warden returned her datapad to the holster on her carry harness, pointed to the gate on the opposite end of the ramp from the diplomatic vessel, and strode off. <
“Yes, Boss. Do I need it now?” Rada pushed the trolley and Zabet pulled, starting it into motion before letting go and walking ahead of the cargo, head turning back and forth as she looked for incoming traffic or nosy observers.
<
“Charming.” Rada so loved being caught in other people’s foul-ups. They reached the edge of the landing pad and Zabet checked them through the gate. A vehicle waited and the two merchants loaded the consignment into the cargo area. Zabet took her place up front and entered the destination information while Rada settled into the back, where she could keep an eye on the cargo. She hoped it would be a short trip: the seatbelt, designed for True-dragons, didn’t close tight enough for her taste.
It took almost half an hour to get to the office complex where their client waited, mostly because of traffic. Rada guessed she could have walked it faster, even pushing the trolley. Zabet’s tail grew stiffer and stiffer as time passed, a warning sign that her temper was growing shorter and shorter. Rada kept her mouth shut and her shields up. She looked out the window, noting the expanse of gardens in the distance. At least, that’s what they looked like—a broad swath of green that peeked out between the tall buildings beside the transport track.
As soon as the door opened, Zabet flowed out, and Rada heard, <
She gazed around the airy, open ground floor atrium, noting the water wall and plant wall. She approved of the muted tones and tasteful blend of metals, wood, and touches of stone that accented the displays. The buyer’s assistant caught her eye, tapping her blue-striped head with her tail-tip, and Rada lowered her shields. <
<
Boss, you owe me, Rada growled behind a shield. She pulled a knife out of her belt sheath and cut the seals on the wrappers, careful to preserve the material for inspection. Three weavings, a bundle of long, iridescent, beaded strips, and two pottery bowls emerged from the wrappings and Rada set them out, folded the wrap, and limped out of the way as Zabet and Gentlesir Martado walked up, inspecting the consignment. As the True-dragons talked, Rada watched a flying mammal flap past the window field. The animal’s fur looked quite thick, although Rada couldn’t tell if the brown gray color owed anything to the tint in the weather shielding. The amount of energy expended in the building impressed her.
After a moment’s thought, Rada thinned her shields just enough to “hear” that the True-dragons remained deep in conversation. The male’s aid held a computer screen in front of him, and he and Zabet appeared to be arguing about one of the bowls. At least, that’s what their tail-tips kept pointing at. Zabet’s whiskers remained relaxed, hanging down beside her narrow muzzle, but the way her round ears twitched told Rada the real story. Brown and green Martado had less control, and his whiskers alternated between horizontal rigidity and rapid vertical twitches. As Rada watched, he sat back on his haunches and threw his forefeet into the air, as if saying, “Oh, sod it, I give up. I’ll pay.”
For her part, Zabet looked almost contrite as she held out her own datapad for Martado’s “signature.” I wonder if the problem is the item or sender and not us. Blessed Bookkeeper, please may that be the problem, Rada half-prayed.
Zabet and Martado finished their business. Zabet slid her pad into the pocket on her carry harness and stood on all four feet. <
Rada bowed and followed. The cream and blue aid rode down the lift with them, and Rada had just enough time to appreciate the fine finish work on the wood-like panels inside the lift before they reached the ground floor. The transparent safety field thinned and they stepped out into the atrium. Zabet led the way out, looked left and right, and pointed with one forefoot in the direction of the spaceport. <
They’d gone a kilometer or so when Rada asked, “What’s up, Boss?”
Zabet sliced the air with a hind foot. <
“So he wasn’t mad at us, then. Good to hear.”
<
Rada walked along at Zabet’s shoulder, glad for her cane. Her knee’s dull ache warned that she needed to sit or at least lean and take weight off it for a few minutes if she planned on walking any distance. Zabet found what she wanted and stopped in front of a gaudy, yellow-trimmed entry. The bright purple door slid open and the pair entered.
<
She held up her right hand, palm in, showing her signet. <
Rada ordered a small fruit juice and what proved to be crispy, meat and starch-filled puffy dough triangles. Zabet shared the order, along with nursing a large, pale-green beer and devouring vegetables on skewers. <
Zabet started to answer, but a chorus of hisses and growls from the other diners interrupted her. They turned in their seats and noticed a large holo-projection in the back of the dining area. <
“Ladies and gentlemen and others of Trokoka, I send you greetings from the Terran Empire. It is my pleasure to be speaking with you today, and I regret not bein
g able to visit your world in person. Consul Alyssa Monticredi has my utmost faith and confidence. Furthermore …” Rada winced and rubbed her forehead as another wave of growls and tail thwaps filled the room.
<
Another diner snapped, <
Rada cringed as she remembered the incident in question. No, that had not been one of the Terran Empire’s finer moments, at least not according to the version she’d learned while she was with Krather’s Komets.
“… As you know, my administration has taken every possible measure to improve relations between the Terran Empire and Houses Tromari and Nayglee …” Rada ducked a spray of beer as Zabet choked. The man droned on and at least half the diners in the café groaned, including Rada. House Trobak owned the world of Tromari, and he’d butchered the name of Zabet’s birth House, which also happened to rank among the oldest surviving Houses. Blessed Bookkeeper, why didn’t his aids load pronunciations into his text projector?
“The residents of Terra realize that relations between our peoples have not always been smooth, and for that I wish to express my deepest regrets.” Rada sensed everyone in the place bristling. “And I’m sorry my mammal ancestors ate the eggs of the dinosaurs, some of whom looked a lot like your ancestors who weren’t sapient.” Rada and Zabet both slapped forefeet over their eyes, swearing, as roars of anger erupted from several patrons, the bouncer, and some of the wait staff.
The bouncer, white whiskers rigid, brushed past two tables of diners and changed the channel. <
Rada felt the chorus of “yes” and “please.” <
